Remember
by Cynic
Summary: Do you remember how happy we were? I do. I remember, too, when it all began to fall apart. ((Slash, OotP spoilers))


Title- Remember

Author- Cynic

Rating- PG-13

Warnings- Slash and Dark!Harry. OotP included

Disclaimer- Nope. Not mine.

A/N- Good LORD! Wow. Angsty and then some. I dunno why I wrote this. I actually am in a really good mood. I probably should have been working on the next chapter of "The Sparrow and The Starling" but I felt like a bit of HP and my pirates muses are snogging somewhere. Enjoy!

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Potter, 

            Have you ever been to Azkaban? It's dark here. It's always dark and always cold. No dementors anymore, but you know that right? Of course you do, you always knew everything. Azkaban doesn't need dementors. It stinks of fear, here. It smells of hate. I had to dictate this to an enchanted quill outside my cell. Nothing sharp can enter my bars; they don't want to lose their prize. I wake up every morning to the sound of sobs from the cell next to mine. Weasley is in there. Remember him? I used to taunt him all the time, you always defended him. How funny that it was you that sent him to this God-forsaken place. 

            Everything's funny in Azkaban. It has to be. Without my sense of humor I would be like Ron. Always crying and yelling out names in the night. He says your name a lot, Potter. A whole lot. I bet you can hear it. I think you can hear him calling out to you. But he is not the only one. I think the song of our cries lulls you to sleep every night. Because we are all here because of you, and I never want you to forget that.

            My father was in this cell once. You ask me how do I know? How can I know? Certainly the most dignified of families would never carve their name into the bedpost with their fingernails. I rest better knowing that I never did and neither did my father. But I know. I know that you have a sense of humor too. I know that you would like the pretty irony. My father is no longer in Azkaban; I am. I told you would die for that. And you used that against me at my trial. 

            I thought I loved you once. During sixth year, when we both saw our friends dying around us, I thought I could love you. You were always so strong. Always there. Even through my hate, I loved you for that. I loved you for the fact that you would never cease being a thorn in my side. When I turned against all I knew, when I became traitor because I finally saw what the Dark did to those who followed it, you were there. You smiled at me for the first time. And I smiled back. I didn't know then what the Light did to those who followed it, and how it hurt worse than even _crucio_.__

_\_           We became friends that year. Do you remember? Are you too lost in your paranoia to remember? We became friends, and then we became lovers. I lost myself in your eyes, in your touch. I forgot myself. I forgot the war and my father in his prison. Because the Dark Lord apparently did not want to waste resources on those stupid enough to get caught just yet. But he would, eventually. And I forgot. 

            Seventh year came. We both stayed at Hogwarts over the summer, along with most of the other students. It was safe here. Or so we thought. We were happy then, do you remember?  I do. I remember the time when we snuck out of our respective dorms, in the dead of night, against all orders and common sense, to see each other. To see each other and to make sandwiches. I had ham and cheese, but you would settle for nothing less than peanut butter. No jelly, just peanut butter. The house-elves were horrified that we did not let them do the work. Do you still like just peanut butter? I don't think so. Too simple for the great Harry Potter.

            But do you remember two months into our last year? Do you remember? I do. I remember Dumbledore dead and I remember the school being ravaged by blood and smelling of death. I remember your face as you told gave me the count of the dead from Gryffindor, and I remember the coldness in your eye when you said the name "Hermione Granger"

            Slytherin was untouched and you hated me for it. You smiled and cried on my shoulder, but it was then when you first began to change. It was then you decided it was worse to love and lose than to never love at all. 

            Do you remember what you did? You took control. With Dumbledore dead, and all of the professors wounded and in shock, it was you who stepped up. You quietly sent letters to the families of the dead, and you comforted the ones left behind. You slipped away from me, no longer caring about yourself or your friends, then all you cared about was the Greater Good.

            Interesting how you had phases. Do you remember how they changed? You were normal, almost, before Dumbledore died. Then you were too selfless. After, yes after, you were only aware of one person. Harry Potter. 

            You were granted control on a greater scale. Even though you were seventeen, that did not stop you, and you took politics by storm. By the time you were done, there was no politics, remember? Do you remember your face when you were named Minister of Magic before you graduated school? I do. I was proud of you, but I was scared of you. Everything you did had a new intensity and as I helped you in all the ways I could, I was always less important. You drove yourself harder and harder. Always trying to outguess and outmaneuver the Dark Lord.

            But the casualty count kept rising. That was the only thing you couldn't stand, the deaths. The faces. The memory of reading Sirius' will and greeting Cedric's parents. Of never going to Hermione's funeral because you couldn't, because you just couldn't face her parents accusing and bitter eyes. Because, of course, it was all your fault.

            I don't know what led you to your next step. You shut me out. You must remember. Do you remember? You made yourself learn as much as you can about the Dark Arts. You would practice long into the night, going so far as to put me under a sleeping spell when I got too worried.

            I could have warned you. I could have told you that that was not the answer. And I am telling you now. Don't you see what you did? Don't you remember? Don't you remember the thirst for power and the rush after your first kill? I do. I remember that power and that rush. I loved it but I grew to hate it. It killed my father. It killed my mother. And now that power, that rush, it's killing me.

            Do you remember how suspicious you got? How hard? You would smile at me, but it would never reach your eyes. But now, with you as our leader, we started to win. We whittled down their numbers. Do you remember when we finally finished off the last of his army? I do. 

            It was only the death eaters left. The highest circle of his followers. The highest circle of his followers and himself. Do you remember that battle? Do you remember using the Forbidden to kill your enemy? I do.

            I could have told you why that curse was so feared. Other curses cause death, and with more pain. Other curses are more subtle. No, that curse was not forbidden because what it did to the one it was set upon, it was forbidden because what it did to the caster. I think Voldemort died laughing.

            You were completely lost then. The war was over, but you were not yet done. Hidden alcoves of the dark were yet to be found and they proved even trickier than their master had. There was a spy in our midst, do you remember? Of course you do.

            Of course you remember how we now lost man after man to a bunch of leaderless Death Eaters. It burned, didn't it? You became tougher, more brutal. Your aurors were instructed to kill, not maim. Not even your own people escaped. 

            London was a horrible place to be, do you remember why? Because of you, Potter. Because of you. Power had finally gotten to you, and you would let no one strip it away. The daily prophet then became even more of a joke than it usually was. Sprouting propaganda about how well everything was going and how wonderful of a leader you were.  Any editors of any other papers that disagreed were killed. Soon no one disagreed. Or no one dared to disagree.

            I loved you still. I tried to change you. Do you remember why I left? I do. I begged you to reconsider your policy. To try and lead, not rule. You struck me down. I was always lighter than you, and you beat me. Bruised and battered, it was then I left, my pride would not let me stay. My conscience would not let me stay. I did not want to stay.

            But Malfoy's aren't known for letting people walk over them. Do you remember what I did? I did what you feared would happen and it only happened because you feared it. I set up a resistance. 

            I was against the Dark, but I was against you. Suddenly two renegade groups attacked Ministry buildings, but only one ever killed civilians. Only one ever attacked anything that did not belong to you. I may have a thirst for vengeance, but I could control it.

            Many people joined me. Even close friends of yours. Even Ron. Do you remember? I do. I remember him coming to me begging to be let in. He was afraid of you Potter, we all were. The great Harry Potter was not supposed to be like you were, and are.

            We did damage, in our time. But you caught us, do you remember? It was raining that day. And you killed seven in our raid, two of which were children hiding here with their mother. You killed seven without a trial, and you murdered two children. You murdered two children, Potter. Do you remember their screams? I know you killed them. I know you killed them with that famous wand. 

            I was on trial. And I was convicted. I remember how you smirked at me when I was led from the room. You seemed to triumph in my pain. Why, Potter? Do you remember how happy we were? Do you remember what you used to be?

            I think you remember what we were. I think you remember what we set out to do. I think you remember what Cedric died for. I think you remember what Sirius died for. I think you remember what Dumbledore died for. I think you remember what Hermione died for.  I think you remember what you started killing for.  I think you remember what you were.

And I think it kills you.

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